


Rose Garden Dreams, Set On Fire By Fiends

by great_turkey_calamity



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Cuddling, Especially Henry help this boy, Fluff, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Not Beta Read Dont Come For Me, Post-Coital Cuddling, The whole fic is just him talking about how in love he is, These boys are lovesick n e r d s, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and being awfully dramatic about it, not really relevant but Alex is a sock sleeper, roast him in my comments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26482480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/great_turkey_calamity/pseuds/great_turkey_calamity
Summary: Alex comes home from a trip to DC, and Henry realizes just how much he’s missed him.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 24
Kudos: 201





	Rose Garden Dreams, Set On Fire By Fiends

**Author's Note:**

> This is short, sweet, and to the point!! Really wanted some dramatic, whipped Henry lol.

Henry always loves it when Alex comes home from some big event or conference.   
  


He loves the feverish way that they kiss— like they haven’t seen each other in months, and they won’t again for several more.

He also enjoys the way that he’s able to bring his lover back to life, breathe new energy into him, rejuvenate him with every bite and touch. He’s very adept at making up for lost time.

However, he probably enjoys this the most; laying with him in the aftermath of their personal little storm, bathing in the moonlight streaming into the room from the sliver of space where their curtains part. For Henry, it’s the best part of getting reacquainted after any length of time spent away with him. Holding him and counting all the things that he loves about Alexander— far too many to count. 

“I missed you.” He sighs into his hair, inhaling the scent of leave-in conditioner and coconut oil.  
  


He feels a leg hook around his waist, and a socked foot brush against the back of his leg; normally, he would pester Alex about taking them off, but this moment seems too blissful to do so. Too carefree, too quiet. 

Alex shimmies up enough to make proper eye contact with Henry, cupping his face in his hands. They’re absolutely freezing, nearly making him tense up. He wants to hold them, to kiss them until they’re just as warm as his smile when something amuses him, or when he comes home after a long day at the end of a rough work week. 

“I missed you too,” He replies, voice hoarse and husky from earlier activities. “Maybe a little too much.” He admits, his grin making him look just a touch ditzy. 

Henry raises an eyebrow, slipping his hand down to hold him by the waist. 

“What makes you say that?” He asks, intrigued. 

“June told me to shut up because I was talking about you too much.” Alex explains, and Henry can’t help but laugh.

“I wasn’t aware that I occupy so much space in your mind.” He teases, kissing the tip of Alex’s nose as he rolls his eyes.

“Shush.” Alex commands, hand smoothing over Henry’s chest. “I was away from you for an entire _week_ , Hen. That’s seven whole days without you; _way_ too many.”

“I’ll have to come with you next time, then.” He suggests, hands roaming his skin, making up for the time that they’d lost to their positions. “Because I agree— a week is entirely too long of a timespan to be away from you.”

There’s no hiding behind snorts and rolled eyes now; Alex’s face is bright red, rivaling the shade still staining Henry’s chest and the apples of his cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful.” He muses, closing the gap between them with a kiss, slow and tender, the kind that makes your heart stop and every breath feel like the most important one that you’ll ever take.

  
Henry’s life had started in Rio De Janeiro during the Olympic Games. Alex had come up to him, spoken to him for the first time, and it was like someone had tossed a lit match into one of his grandmother’s favorite gardens.

Alexander was beautiful.

Alexander was dangerous. 

So, turned to Shaan and he _begged_ , for the sake of his sanity and his heart, for him to get Alex away as quickly as possible.

What he didn’t know was that those words had carried along, that they had reached the ears of the last person that they had ever been intended.  
  


Eventually four years had come and gone, with Henry’s life passing by on pause, when he saw him again at Phillip’s wedding.

Once again, he found himself paralyzed with fear. He also found himself to be intrigued, curiosity lingering somewhere deep within himself; he hadn’t known anyone could look so devastatingly gorgeous and bored at the same time.

He was completely unlike any young man he’d met at uni— whilst those boys all had shone in their own unique way, bright golden sunlight seems to burst into any room that Alexander Claremont-Diaz enters.   
  


Of course, reverie had been quick to turn into arguing, and before he was able to assess the situation properly, they were both on the floor, buttercream smeared over suits worth thousands of dollars. His cheek had been cut by his champagne flute, and he was mirroring Alex’s look of terror. 

Things only continued to spiral from there.

Secret rendezvous in Paris.

New, inventive ways of eating cupcakes.

Karaoke nights where everyone’s had just a bit too much to drink. 

Disappearing from the lake house to go skinny dipping and snog like teenagers.

Disappearing when things felt, no, _were_ , much too good to be true.

Screaming.

Crying.

I love you.

_I love you._

What a powerful, unshakable phrase. They must say it more than three times a day to one another, every instance holding a different meaning. Sometimes it means _‘thank you’,_ other times it means _‘I am here for you’._ For Henry, it has always meant one thing: I’ve risked it all for you, and I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant that I would never have to stop holding your hand. 

  
Alex is the first to pull away, and Henry hums at the separation, the absence of warmth, glancing over him, counting all of the distinguishing features that he’s come to love about him; the faint scar on his lower abdomen— something about hopping a barbed wire fence in high school, the softness of his stomach, which he hates, but Henry adores, his chin dimple, his infuriatingly perfect smile, his eyelashes.  
  


 _Oh god_ , his eyelashes. They have absolutely no business being that beautiful. Their length, the way they curl and fan out just right; bloody hell, he could look at them for hours. Such a small detail, something that most wouldn’t even notice about another person, and it has completely taken over Henry’s thoughts. 

Alex clears his throat, and it makes Henry snap back into the present, jolting.

“You were out in space there for a minute.” Alex chuckles.

“You’ll have to forgive me.” He apologizes, lips turning up into a soft smile. “You seem to have that effect on people; making them dumbstruck and lovesick and whatnot.

”

Alexander groans dramatically, rolling Henry onto his back and straddling his lap. 

“Stop being so mushy all the time.” He demands, lacing his fingers with Henry’s as he bends down to peck his lips. 

“What if I decide I don’t want to?” Henry whispers against his mouth, nipping his bottom lip.

Alex hums against his lips and pulls away, looking him right in the eyes. “Well, then I guess I would just have to fight you.” He decides, bracing himself, his knees digging into Henry’s hips.   
  


“I would win.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Alex scoffs, curls falling into his eyes. “You don’t even know how to use the washing machine, what makes you think you can beat me in a fight?” He sneers, gasping when he’s overpowered by Henry’s pure strength, knocked off of his lap and onto the mattress, their fingers still intertwined as his arms are pinned above his head.

“Shall I count the reasons?” Henry asks, feigning sweetness as he smiles. “I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I can tell when you let your guard down before you even realize you’ve done it.” He explains. “And I know you’re _not_ trying to make fun of me for breaking our last washing machine, when you were trying to make instant noodles last week and managed to start a bloody _fire_. I’d say that a fire’s quite a bit worse than using too much detergent, love.”

“I _hate_ you.” Alex pouts, sniffing and turning his chin up to the sky as his face goes scarlet once more. “You’re such a bully, you _always_ bully me.“ He claims, being as dramatic as possible.

“Oh, you poor thing.” Henry coos, perhaps mocking him just a little as he backs off, allowing him to sit up and have control of his arms again. “How will you go on, facing torment day in and out? You are truly stronger than most.”

“That,” Alex starts, flopping back on top of Henry. “Is what I like to hear.“

“You’re still a shit fighter, though.” He jabs.

“I’ll break up with you right now, Henry.”

“I suggest you get packing then, darling.”

Alex scowls playfully at him, so Henry mimics his facial expression, nearly dying when his eyes crinkle and gentle laughter tumbles from his lips. 

“Is that actually what I look like?” He asks, continuing to laugh, pressing his face into Henry’s shoulder. “God, I’m a mess.”

“You’re my mess.” Henry amends, hands finding Alex’s hair, fingers carding through his curls and avoiding wild, unruly tangles. 

“Yes I am.” Alex agrees, kissing his shoulder.  
  


There’s no telling how long they lay there, soaking up each other’s warmth and presence, but Henry is sure of one thing: he has never felt more happy than he has by Alexander’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @bi-disaster-fsotus


End file.
